Some Things Are Better Off Left Unsaid
by Laughing Librarian
Summary: Joanne's not feeling well and she's gunning for Roy. -My attempt at a response to a quote challenge: "You never know what's going to meet you in the silence." –Byron Katie


**A/N- Joanne has a cold. Her dialogue is written as if she has a stuffy nose. ;)**

"Stubid code," Joanne DeSoto grumbled. "Figures. I always get a code when Roy worgs."

She angrily snatched some toys up from the floor and tossed them haphazardly into the toy box in the corner of the living room. She had finally just finished the dishes and let the muddy-pawed dog back in. It was eleven-thirty at night and the children were in bed. Or rather, Christopher was on the sofa, buried under his favorite quilt and clutching the stuffed rabbit the nine-year old pretended to not like anymore. Lately he'd been begging to sleep downstairs because Jennifer always slept in Joanne and Roy's bed when Roy was at the station during the nights. Chris pleaded his case to Joanne, stating that it clearly wasn't fair that she and Jenny both got to sleep downstairs and he was the only one upstairs...all alone. After the third argument that night, Joanne gave in and let him move his things to the sofa.

It didn't really matter where the kids slept, she supposed; it's not like _she'd_ be getting any rest that night anyway. Joanne was restless with a low-grade fever, and the nasty cold she'd been fighting all week had finally settled in for the duration. With the cough she had developed and the constant sneezing, there was no way she could get to sleep. Besides, by the time she returned to bed, Jenny would surely be sprawled across the entire thing and Jo would end up left with an area the size of a postage stamp.

Jo groaned, "I am _so_ tired. I wish bore than anythig I could sleeb."

She sniffed and snorted, then plunged her hand into the pocket of her terrycloth bathrobe, searching for yet another Kleenex. She blew her nose most unbecomingly and flinched as Christopher stirred at the sound, but didn't wake. She plopped herself down in the green chair by the fireplace and tossed a crocheted blanket across her lap.

Examining the criss-cross pattern in the purple and orange blanket she muttered, "Ugly thig. If Roy's mother hadn't made 'dis, I would have giben it away a long tibe ago. Orange and purple? Whad was that old woman thinkig? Honestly."

Jo flicked on the lamp which sat on the side table and removed the thermometer from its case. Shaking it down and popping into her mouth, she burrowed a little deeper into her robe.

As she waited for the thermometer to do its thing, she stared at the unlit fireplace, wondering a little why they even had it. It was rarely ever used since Roy was so neurotic about having a fire in the house.

"Fireben!" she huffed. She recalled over a year ago when they attempted to "liven things up a bit" and make love in front of the fire. A cinder had popped out and singed Roy's um, bottom, and he'd been too reluctant to try it there again.

Joanne frowned as she held the thermometer up to the light. "101...ish. I hade 'dis. I can't rest, I'm sneezig by head off, by eyes are wadery, and by cough could wayg the dead. I feel lige dirt."

She wrapped herself up tighter in the ghastly blanket and glanced over to her snoozing son. At least _he_ was sleeping soundly, she groused. She rested her head in her upraised hand and closed her eyes.

Deep in the throes of her own pity-party, she whined, "Why can't Roy eber be hobe when I deed hib?"

There she stayed, all night long, occasionally coughing and shifting around in the chair, but never fully waking until Roy came home that morning. Entering the house through the garage, he was surprised by the silence that greeted him. On any other day, Jo would be there, already up with coffee brewing and breakfast cooking. The kids would have welcomed him with hugs and Jenny would stand on his shoes and demand a dance across the kitchen floor.

"Jo? Christopher? Jenny?" Roy called out.

As he walked into the living room, he smiled at the sight of Chris. His son was sleeping on top of the pillows, the blanket was on the floor and his arms were wrapped tightly around "Mr. Bun". Joanne woke up when she felt his hand on her arm. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, wincing at how stiff she was after a night spent in the chair. She attempted to speak, but only barked out a deep, raspy cough. He eyes watered and she wiped them with the sleeve of her robe. It seemed her voice had mostly abandoned her over night as well and she squeaked out a faint "Mornig, hodey."

"Baby, you sound awful," her concerned husband told her as he placed a hand on her forehead.

Still grumpy, she shrugged and smiled weakly. "_Thag you, Captain Obvious,_" she mumbled to herself.

Chris yawned and moved from the sofa to wrap himself around his dad's legs. "Morning, Dad," he smiled.

Roy tousled his son's hair, "Morning, Chris. Slept on the couch last night, eh?"

"Yep, Jenny got your bed again. I wanted to be down here too."

"Gotcha. Hey, why don't you go get your sister up and we'll make everyone some breakfast. Mom's not feeling well."

"Okay, dad."

"_No way. They'll leeb nothig bud a mess for me to clean ub._" Jo griped to herself.

Joanne opened her mouth to protest, but Roy put a finger to her lips. "Sshh, don't worry about it. How about you go run yourself a nice, hot bath. When you're done, I'll bring breakfast to our room for you."

Joanne wanted to object again but was interrupted when Jenny flung herself at her daddy and perched her small feet on top of Roy's big ones. "Daddy!" she squealed, "let's dance!"

Roy swung his little blond princess around and waltzed her off to the kitchen, leaving Joanne standing dumbstruck in the living room doorway. She stalked off for the bathroom and closed the door behind her, a little harder than she needed to.

"_How dare he,_" she snarled. _"I was ub all dight, sick and coughig, no sleeb, kids bade a bess of the house, and he cobs hobe all habby and sweed. I bed he didn't eben leabe the station once."_

She coughed hard and realized she'd even peed herself a little._ "Oh, this is just gread," _she moaned._ "What's dext?"_

She grabbed some flowery-scented bath salts from the cabinet, poured some into the tub and sat back on the toilet lid to watch the water fill. The hot, steamy air helped unstuff her nose and the relative quiet relaxed her. Faintly, she could hear dishes and pans clinking in the kitchen and laughter from her husband and children. Jo slid her robe from her shoulders, let it fall to the floor and it lay there, making a soft puddle over her nightgown and slippers.

Realizing what a foul mood she'd been in and how many times just that morning she had nearly spouted something nasty, made her feel awful. She slid into the fragrant bubbles, wrung out a washcloth and placed it over her eyes. She knew it wasn't Roy's fault he was gone for such long shifts, nor was it his fault she was sick. Furthermore, she told herself, the children only wanted to be close to her at night and she knew the time would come all too soon when they'd prefer to be away. She had been exhausted, fed-up and grumpy, ready to lay out a tongue-lashing to the first person who challenged her. But, like he was often able to do, her sweet husband had defused her temper before any words she couldn't take back had left her mouth.

"Guess id's a good thig I kept by bouth shut 'dis tibe," she sniffed and a few stray tears tumbled down her cheeks. She took a few deep breaths, then proceeded to wash herself with one of the luxury soaps Roy's mother had given her for Christmas last year. The steam opened her nose and she took in the scent of the bubbles.

"Sweet woman; she knows exactly what I like," Joanne smiled.

Indeed, her horrid mood melted away and and swirled down the drain with the last of the hot water. She tip-toed, naked, to her bedroom to find something to wear. The door opened and Roy stood there, taking in the sight of his nude wife, skin still glistening with dampness. As much as he would have liked to have his way right then, he was a wise man, and refrained from anything more than a "Wow, you look great."

Joanne spun around and grabbed a blanket to cover herself, then laughed at her sudden modesty. "Oh, blease, I loog horrible," she fussed as she looted the dresser drawers for a clean bra and panties.

Roy approached her, "Hey, Mom's coming to get the kids for the day so you can rest. How about you find some fresh pajamas and get in bed. Breakfast is ready."

Joanne's jaw dropped. "Really?" she squeaked, "The whole day? Roy, your mob is 'da best!"

She found a slightly worn and comfy set of pajamas and crawled into the vacated bed. Roy placed three pillows behind her and pulled the comforter up to her lap. He left to retrieve her breakfast plate and she frowned at how her disgraceful mood had nearly ruined the day. She smiled in gratitude when Roy brought her a tray with eggs and bacon, toast and orange juice. On the side was a pair of aspirin tablets.

He kissed her on the nose and left her to eat. "Get some rest; I'll sleep in Chris' room today. Maybe when I get up later, you'll feel better."

He closed the door quietly and Joanne shook her head in disbelief.

"Some thigs really are bedder off left unsaid," she mused, then picked up her fork to eat.


End file.
